


packfamilymatelove

by Saraste



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: (kinda), Full Shift Were's, M/M, Mating Run, Sterek Week 2016, Werefox Stiles, Werewolves, Wolf Derek, the pack is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Stiles' were isn't a wolf, but that isn't the only revelation of that autumn night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One paragraph was inspired by a post about old Celtic weddig vows I saw on tumblr recently.

_Stiles' were isn't a wolf_. Because when has he ever conformed, been like others. Some of the others murmur in surprise, still in skin, the yard is filled with congratulatory howls. But they do not approach as Stiles takes to his four legs, his fur.

 

Derek doesn't think how he could see Stiles as a wolf, not now that he's seen Stiles inner beast.

 

And Stiles _is_ a very attractive little fox. He's adorable. Derek just wants to pick him up and cuddle him to his hearts content, press his face against what he knows is soft fur on his belly. Well, the human in Derek wants that. The wolf in him wants to chase, to play, to catch. Tumble down over dead leaves and lick all over Stiles' foxy face.

 

To mate.

 

_To claim._

 

Make it so all will know Stiles is his as he's Stiles'. That their lives are in each others hands and claws.

 

That happens, because it's as inevitable as Stiles' were being a fox. Because it's always been inevitable, from the first moment they met, Derek _knew._ Knew Stiles could be something else than just the gangly kid who was all legs and elbows, who told him he wasn't afraid. Who Derek had been afraid of, because of what might happen if he were to get his hands on all that pale skin, if he let Stiles under his skin, into his heart.

 

Their paws beat a skidding rhythm on the damp fall-leaves. Derek hadn't even thought about shifting, he'd dropped into all fours, easy as breathing. Like he'd done countless times with his old pack, his family. And Stiles is _packfamilymatelove_ more than anything now, now that he's on four dark paws, coaxing out all of Derek's dormant instincts, the one's hes been suppressing for years. Because he's been afraid, afraid to give this much of himself, to dare to love, to know, to admit Stiles is his mate even when he's known it for years.

 

Derek loses himself in the pure joy of running with packmatefamilylove, Stiles. Eventually, Stiles flops down onto the forest floor, gives Derek a cheesy fox-grin, tongue lolling out, his scent full of lovewantfamilylust. They've had this first run alone, the others knowing not to follow, for they'd _known_ , have always known, about him and Stiles, of the potential there. Of the simmering want Derek had banked.

 

But there is no hiding now, in the autumn forest at night, when they're both in fur, panting, having romped through the forest, enjoying the pure joy of being alive, of running on four legs.

 

Stiles bares his neck for Derek to put his fangs over and, before Derek can think, be a slow considering human, the scared man of so many years, he's offering his neck in return, after he's done putting his own fangs over Stiles' pulse. Surrender for surrender.

 

Stiles blinks up at him, foxy eyes wide and the forest seems to still around them. Time seems to still. Derek's panicking breath steams. He can't take that back nor does he want to. No going back now.

 

He waits.

 

Doesn't jerk when Stiles' huffing breath is on his neck, his smaller jaw stretching around his jugular, taking Derek's surrender. After, Stiles snuffles his wet cold nose into Derek's neck, making him shiver, jolt back a bit. Heart beating loud, loud, loud.

 

His mate is grinning at him before running off, paws skidding on leaves, tail swishing behind him as he runs. As he goads.

 

Derek gives chase, human and wolf whole, one entity for the first time in forever, no separation, no rift betwixt the two. Stiles has put him back together again, healing him. Trusting him.

 

He tumbles Stilespackmateloveheart down onto the leaves, dead cold damp, and he's a man, pale nude limbs, so much skin, stretching under Derek's fur. And then Derek is skin again.

 

“I do...” Stiles agrees in a breathless giggle, eyes shining, body showing that it knows what it wants, now they're in skin.

 

“What?”

 

“Want to marry you, silly,” Stiles reaches for his face, cups his cheek on his palm, stretches sinfully, inviting, waves his ring-finger at Derek's face. “I love you, didn't you know?”

 

“Stiles… I love you too.”

 

They writhe, naked and excited, wafting lust, panting in eagerness. Murmuring declarations of love into skin. The forest echoes with the joyous howls of their pack-mates, suffusing both of them with the feel of packhomesafe. Derek kisses Stiles hungrily, finally, pressing him on dead leaves, uncaring of the shiver-cold.

 

Stiles stills him before things get too out of hand, before their desperate rutting leads to release. He looks up at Derek, skin all over in goosebumps.

 

“We're not having sex for the first time over damp leaves. It's cold. My ass is numb.”

 

“Can't have that,” Derek drawls, fingers grasping said ass, the skin chilly under his fingertips. Stiles doesn't run were-hot yet, he's too new in his fur, even if he's adapting quick to running on four legs.

 

“You and me. House. Sex-marathon. Now.”

 

Stiles shrugs him off and is gone in a swirl of a fiery red tail. He's taken to shifting like breathing. Like skin and fur are so easy to change between.

 

Derek rolls up and onto four legs, fluidly, gracefully, instinctively, and gives chase, eager to give Stiles what he wants. In fur and out of it.

 

That old ring from his dresser-drawer, too. Once he's fucked Stiles silly and vice versa, of course.

 

 


End file.
